


Hush Hush

by ForgottenChesire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Eloping, M/M, Smut, Well meaning meddlesome moms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-23 00:40:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17070224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: “We need to elope.”It’s a simple statement, said like discussing the weather. It’s a statement that takes a moment to sink in. And when it does, Ron sits up, his eyes wide. His mouth opens and closes and the noises he makes aren’t quite human. A glance out the window tells him more time has gone by than he had thought, dinner will be served soon in fact.





	Hush Hush

**Author's Note:**

> There is some smut. Not sure if it counts as Explicit it or not but I’m being cautious.

Ron follows Narcissa to a different part of the manor, eyes taking it all in. The seamstress that the Malfoy woman hired to make his wedding robes nearly vibrating. It’s just after lunch, a small affair with his mother and Narcissa gossiping and getting along far better than Ron could have ever dreamed.

“This is what my mother called the guest wing. This is where your parents are staying and your brother Percy. Quiet thing isn’t he?” She says as she walks. The halls a sparkling and air fresh. Coming to a stop she pushes open the door to a rather large room. It’s comfy looking, like the robe that Narcissa insisted he wear today on top of the muggle clothes he was already wearing. He follows her shooing motions and stands where she tells him to stand so that the seamstress can get to work.

“This will be where you’ll be staying until the wedding. There is a kitchen in the guest wing, fully stocked and if you need, I have an extra cook to prepare meals for you. But you’re darling mother tells me she’s looking forward to having someone to cook for other than Arthur.”

“Why are you moving me and Draco? We fit in his room just fine?” He asks curiously, raising his arms when they are poked.

“Oh! Draco isn’t coming with you.”

“What?”

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding… or in this case, the other groom!” Narcissa says with an air of excitement. She’s smiling widely as she helps the seamstress by making sure that Ron is holding perfectly still.

“On the wedding day! Not the week before,” Ron counters, wincing as he is poked sharply. The seamstress looks at him innocently when he looks down at her. When the preparation for the wedding first started, when they first told their parents that they were getting married, he was thrilled by their acceptance. After all, his and Draco’s relationship hadn’t always been the smoothest. Six years of anger and distrust, of generations of House rivalry. It wasn’t pretty. And then their “Eighth” year of school when tensions ran strong, angry sex in empty rooms and late-night nightmare recoup sessions in the kitchen that bled into the next five years. So he had expected a repeat of what happened when they announced they were dating. Worry. A little bit of anger. Disbelief.

“Nonsense!” the word drags Ron out of his thoughts. Narcissa has moved across the room, a scroll in her hands. The seamstress nods her head, going along with the older blonde’s insanity. Like suggesting that Ron not see his fiancé for a week because of a superstition is completely normal. He opens his mouth to tell her that he would _not_ be going along with that plan when she plows on.

“You two need all the luck you can get. We don’t want a repeat of what happened with your siblings, right?”

Ron flinches at that. He does not want a repeat. Mainly because Bill and Fleur’s wedding is legendary for all wrong reasons. And Ginny still rants about the fanatic that crashed her wedding, screaming ‘vengeance for Voldemort!’ and managed to destroy the, if you asked Ron, obnoxious ice statue. Narcissa gives him a soft smile of understanding.

“Now that that is out of the way, Molly says that at least one hundred people have owled in to say that they are coming. Isn’t that great?!”

“What?! No it’s not gr- we didn’t-”

“Molly and I know you wanted a small one, but-”

Ron zones out as Narcissa explains how an intimate wedding with just immediate family and Hermione grew to include distant relatives, friends of family, school friends that Draco and Ron haven’t really kept in touch with, and people that Narcissa is sure will help advance both Draco’s and his careers. With a deep breath Ron reminds himself that he had been happy. That he _is_ happy at Narcissa’s easy acceptance of his engagement to her son. Lucius hadn’t been near as accepting when Draco went to visit his father, the older man secluded in his manor now very much single since the divorce. Old anger still fresh in him as he raged about Draco marrying a broke blood traitor.

He looks at her, scrolls now levitating as she reads them out loud. Names after names of people that Ron knows he’ll never be able to remember. He had sided with her when she had wanted to pay all the large bills. When she wanted to house them at her manor, a home she inherited from her mother. Hell he hadn’t minded, too much, the three AM wake-ups to discuss china patterns, fabric colors, or, on one occasion, bachelor parties. But…

But the happiest day of his life is quickly becoming the day he never wants to come. As the planning goes on, his and Draco’s wants are being pushed out of the way. Sure, some of the bigger things for the wedding have been kept. Hermione, Minister of Magic Hermione, goddess come down from heaven and understood that they made better friends than lovers, is going to marry them. Harry is going to be his Best Man, and Goyle is going to be Draco’s. Their first dance is going to be a tango set to intense music. But other things have been changed. The venue. The music for the rest of the night. The cake. All changed. Narcissa and his mother looking at them like they are toddlers again before vetoing what they wanted. And now…

He’s silent through the rest of the fitting. Smiling and nodding when it’s needed, but just, so done with _everything_. When the fitting is finally over and Narcissa has left, giving his cheek a kiss, he sinks down onto his bed. This is not what he expected his wedding planning to be like. His dreams, and he’s always had many of them. Of marrying. Of not being outshined by his siblings. Those dreams had included a lot more food and sex, once he was old enough to enjoy the thought of sex. And with Draco it included a lot of riding said blond like a broomstick covered in chocolate… not very realistic but fun. The door that Narcissa had playfully threatened to lock at night opens.

“We need to elope.”

It’s a simple statement, said like discussing the weather. It’s a statement that takes a moment to sink in. And when it does, Ron sits up, his eyes wide. His mouth opens and closes and the noises he makes aren’t quite human. A glance out the window tells him more time has gone by than he had thought, dinner will be served soon in fact.

“We need to elope,” Draco says again leaning against the door. His perfectly coiffed hair no longer perfectly coiffed. The bags under Draco’s eyes are mirrored on Ron’s face. When Ron doesn’t say anything Draco crosses the room. His hands are cold when they cup Ron’s cheeks, thumbs rubbing his cheekbones.

“It’s no longer _our_ wedding,” he whispers. “We wanted _small_ . _Intimate_. Casual and cozy, to use your words. This? This is the opposite!”

Draco presses a soft kiss to Ron’s lips before sitting down next to the redhead.

“Mother is inviting people we don’t _know_ because of high-class politics. I don’t want this. I don’t want people there that I don’t know there. You don’t want that either… unless you’ve changed your mind?”

Ron snorts, head shaking. He has not changed his mind at all. Leaning against Draco, he lets out a long breath.

“I haven’t. I’m just surprised that you voiced it before I did. But then I underestimated the power team that our mums would be together. I just want to be your husband.”

That gets him a soft smile.

“Then let's go. We’ll go to Kitty’s. Krum is there and can be a witness.”

“We need two witnesses to sign the documents that Hermione has.”

“A stranger from the streets or maybe George then?”

Neither mention how their mothers will kill them if they find out. Narcissa especially would paralyze them and kill them slowly. Since Draco is an only child, he is her only chance to help plan a wedding and she has tied them to chairs so that she can have their full attention. So eloping is just not going to happen in Ron’s mind.

“Did Ginny have this much trouble?” Draco asks pulling them down so that they are laying flat. He turns his head toward Ron, eyes half-mast and deary. Ron kisses him again. Wanting to lighten the mood and show his love all at the same time.

“Maybe not as much.”

They lay in silence until Ron moves to hover over Draco. He leans down and kisses Draco. It’s a deep kiss that could easily move into more. Draco’s hands are on his hips. Thoughts of dinner replaced by lust and a tad bit of nervousness.

“You should leave before your mother comes back. She doesn’t want us to see each other until the wedding day,” he whispers pulling back. The look on Draco’s face mirrors what he felt when he first heard that.

“What?”

“It’s bad luck.”

“On the wedding day and if it’s the bride!”

Ron laughs loudly, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder. He doesn’t want Draco to leave. He wants his fiancé to stay. Not even for sex, though sex is great, but for the comfort that comes with having Draco near.

“I love you,” he says before biting down the clothed shoulder before him. Draco growls lowly. Hands tightening their grip.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish. I doubt mother packed lube,” the blond says. He knows his mother, if she wants Ron to stay here for a week then his clothes will be in the closet. He wants to be inside his fiancé, no doubt about that, but is unwilling to hurt his Weasel more than necessary. The redhead grins widely leaning back so that Draco can see it.

“You should know from our bouts in the classrooms; that A, I’m always prepared with a small thing of lube in my pocket and B, I like it a bit rough,” Ron says grabbing one of Draco’s hands and bringing it up to his face. He considers sucking on the fingers. Nibbling down the wrist but the possibility of Narcissa interrupting them makes him nervous. So instead he nuzzles it. Taking what contact he can. Then he catches the gleam in Draco’s eyes. The same gleam that had the boy casting a levitation spell on them when McGonagall opened the door to the classroom they were fucking in to keep them from being caught.

Draco flips them, eyes flashing as he smashes their lips together. It’s a brutal kiss that stings but Ron _loves_ it. Merlin does he love it. He arches into Draco, moaning as his lover’s hand travels along his side. The hand he had nuzzled is still resting against his cheek.

“I thought you wanted me to leave? I thought you didn’t want my mother to catch me,” Draco whispers against the skin of his neck. His hand is in Ron’s pocket, wrapped around the lube, something completely muggle and bought as a gag gift, that Ron loves more than the magically made stuff. The implication that Draco will stop, will pull away, makes Ron whine. He doesn’t want to get caught, but Merlin does he want Draco.

“I can’t help it. You make me so happy.”

“I think you mean horny, buuuuuut,” Draco pulls away, licking his lips. Ron is wearing a frumpy robe over a tank top and slacks. He recognizes the robe, unfortunately, as one of the ones she wore when father had messed up. Red hair is sticking up and freckled cheeks are flushed. Ron huffs reaching up.

“Draco,” he drags out the name, his hand grabs Draco’s shoulder, “if you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I’ll go with my first reaction and send you from the room.”

“What if I wanted you to ride me?”

Ron whines, eyes widening and he tugs on Draco. The blond takes extreme delight in unbuttoning the slacks and pulling them down slowly. It’s a pleasant surprise to see his fiancé is going commando underneath them. Lube warmed in his hand he quickly coats two fingers. But that is the last thing he does quickly.

He takes his time. One finger at a time. Thrusting them in. In and out. In and out. He stretches Ron, making sure his finger massages the prostate. If there is one thing that Draco knows how to do, it is to drive his Weasel mad. Ron chants Draco’s name over and over as he’s stretched out. More lube is added to fingers and two grows to three.

He stops, fingers slowly pulled out, and he stares at the half-naked Ron. Draco’s prick is hard, leaking and straining against his pants. He leans down latching onto a nipple and sucking on it. From there he moves to the skin on Ron’s ribs. Sucking a bruise onto the pale and freckled skin.

“I want you to ride me. I want you slamming yourself down on me and not make a sound. Can you do that, Weasel? Can you stay quite? Can you not come until I say so?”

Ron bobs his head up and down, letting Draco lay down before hovering yet again above his fiancé. Licking his lips, he gently unbuttons Draco’s trousers with his teeth. It’s a skill that makes Draco squirm. Just like when he unzips things with his mouth. The trousers go flying, as do the pants underneath. All this is done in silence.

Ron can be such a good boy that he doesn’t vocalize the pure ecstasy that is sinking down onto Draco’s dick. There is a slight burn. The burn that he likes. The burn that increases when he starts to move directly after sinking down to the root. The _thwap_ of skin fills the air along with panting breaths and the _thumping_ of the bed. Draco groans, his hands leaving bruises on Ron’s hips.

“That’s it, Weasel. Ride me.”

A soft command that Ron has no problem following. Body happily lifting and rocking and sinking back down on the thick prick inside him.

“I _hated_ \-- watching you play-- Quidditch. You-- on-- that broom? Death,” Draco admits this without shame, one hand leaving its white-knuckle grip on his hips to give Ron’s dick a good tug. The words are said between pants and grunts and breathy little moans that drive Ron round the bend.

“You feel-- so warm around me. Love-- fucking you.”

On and on Draco talks. Filling Ron’s ears with the sound of his voice. They are so focused on each other that they don’t hear the door open. Don’t see Narcissa look up from her scrolls, coming to discuss something that she had forgotten during the fitting.

“Come for me, Weasel,” Draco commands as Ron’s movements get sloppy. There is a glazed look on the redhead's face and with a low moan, Ron comes. The tightening around his prick causes Draco to follow shortly after.

“I’m sorry,” Ron whispers tiredly. Body aching in the best way.

“Whatever for?”

“I wasn’t silent…”

“Oh, Weasel. You were perfect. No need for sorries. Now stay here, I need to find a cloth and some snacks for you.”

“Mkay.”

By this time Narcissa is gone and neither know that they were caught. Draco pauses at the door, smiling at the sight of Ron splayed out on the bed.

“I want apple slices,” Ron says with an edge to his voice. He keeps his eyes nice and wide as he stares at Draco. Like he used to when he was asking his mum for one more biscuit. Draco chuckles, his head bobbing up and down before he closes the door. Ron drifts off, not tired, but in that wonderful place between. Lax and comfortable after being taken apart. Weight is gone from his shoulders as it always is when he follows Draco’s commands during sex. Waking to a growling stomach isn’t a pleasant experience. Waking up feeling unanchored and alone is even worse. He’s sticky. Icky. Draco never came back to clean him up. It hurts. It hurts more than Ron can describe.

Carefully, body protesting, he stands, wrapping the soiled robe around him. The door to his room shakes but doesn’t open. Not even when he casts Alohomora. He pounds on the door, voice cracking, demanding to know what’s going on, to be let out. Then there is a loud noise behind him and a nervous looking House Elf clears her throat. She curtsies at him, well dressed as House Elves go with meat on her figure. Clearly well taken care of.

“The Mistress would like me to inform you that until measures are taken, you are not allowed outside without proper escort! It’s bad luck to be doing what you’ve done! Bad luck sir!” She squeaks. Well spoken and brave.

“Mistress says that a portable bath will be sent soon along with breakfast. Mistress only wants what is best. Shouldn’t have misbehaved! Naughty sir! Naughty!”

With that the House Elf disapparating away leaving Ron alone. He buries his face into his hands and tries not to scream. How his soon to be mother-in-law knew that they misbehaved, he doesn’t want to know. She could have at least waited until the aftercare was over. This is what he’s marrying into. What does it say about him that he doesn’t mind? Or wouldn’t have, had she waited until he had been cleaned up and fed by Draco? He doesn’t mind indulging in a bit of crazy. Look at his friendship with Harry! His home life with so many brothers and his sister. Crazy he can handle. But this may be a bit much.

Like the House Elf said, a portable tub is brought in. He’s expecting another House Elf or maybe a servant but instead it’s Narcissa who brings it. Her cheeks are tinted pink and she has problems looking him in the eye.

“I know you don’t see it, but I am doing this for you. For Draco. It’s… it’s bad luck and you two are already unlucky. I want you both to be happy.”

She sets up the tub her wand flicking to fill it up with warm water. Something metal is pulled out of her deep pockets, with another swish of her wand a chamber pot expands into existence. His face pales at the sight. She really does expect him to stay here.

“I’d be happier if I could see Draco.”

She gives him a sad look. Hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

“And you will. In six days. I won’t let anything mess this up for you. For him. Your mother will be along with breakfast. Just yell for Zispey when you’re done bathing and she’ll let your mother know it’s safe to come in.”

She pauses at the door, looking over her shoulder.

“All your clothes are where they should be and there are towels in the closet.”

And then she’s gone. Ron bathes. Taking longer than he really needs. Letting the warm water relax muscles that had tightened during the night. He washes away the remnants of the night before. When he finally pulls himself out he’s pruney and his stomach is yelling at him. It’s cramping and hurting and he sinks down to the floor. It takes a lot of energy to get dressed.

“Zispey! Could you please tell my mum-”

The door swings open and his mother comes hustling in with Zispey following behind her. Both are carrying trays of food. The smell of freshly cooked sausages and eggs and even scones cause his mouth to literally water. His mum is an angel as she doesn’t make him get up from where he has sunk down onto the floor. She instead brings her tray over to him and places it on his lap. The tray that Zispey brought in is given to his mum.

They eat in silence. Silence… it’s been happening a lot and Ron doesn’t like it. The occasional bout is good, often needed, but this feels wrong. The dark pit in his stomach that has started to form when he thinks about his mum is wrong.

“Mum.”

“Yes, dear?”

He looks down at his plate, fork breaking the yoke of the eggs and swirling it about.

“Can you talk Narcissa out of this? Please?”

She laughs. Not her boisterous laugh. But a soft one. Her shoulder brushes his.

“Come now, it’s just a bit of harmless fun. Let her indulge in her superstitions. Think of it as practice. Draco is going to be moving up the career ladder and I can see your brother’s joke shop spreading so you could be sent out of the country. Imagine, you in France! Or America!”

She sounds so chipper. So happy. He heaves a huge sigh and takes a small bite of his food. Despite the hunger gnawing at his insides he isn’t actually hungry anymore.

“Ron, look at me.”

His eyes dart up, but don’t stay.

“Ronald.”

He looks at her. Takes in the greying red hair and the laugh lines around her eyes. She’s aging, but her smile still soothes him.

“I… I know that this is hard, but… this current generation of Weasleys don’t have the best luck when it comes to weddings. I want you to be happy, but I also understand where she’s coming from,” she pushes her tray away from her so that she can cup his cheeks. Hands rougher than Narcissa’s but… still as comforting.

“How about a compromise?” Ron proposes, leaning his head back. She raises an eyebrow at him.

“I’ll stay in this room without complaint if the guest list is cut down to where it was when Draco and I first planned it.”

“Can’t do that, love.”

“Why not?” he would like to say he doesn’t whine, but it would be a lie. He whines and even pouts. Shifting away from the hands on his face. Hands that follow to pat his cheeks gently.

“Because you need this. To be better than me and your da.”

“MUM!”

“No. Listen to me, Ronald. What we had? It was good. Damn fine compared to what others have. But it wasn’t _good_ . You had all the love in the world and that’s important. Love though, love doesn’t fill an empty belly. _Money_ does. And these people will help make sure that you and Draco and any children you have will never know the struggle that me and your father did. There were days we went without food so that we could buy your textbooks. Remember your Second Year? The tightening of our purses. You make the right connections and even if Narcissa squanders all her wealth down the drain leaving nothing for Draco, you’ll never have to feel that worry.”

She gives a half smile, her head tilting as she huffs a breath.

“Now let’s get off depressing subjects. And eat!”

Ron laughs shoveling a fork full of food into his mouth. The rest of breakfast is spent talking. When his mother leaves, trays floating in front of her, Zispey nowhere to be seen. But then Ron knows that House Elves can move silently.

“Just remember, it’s only six days, love.”

There isn’t much to do in a bedroom, no matter the size, when you’re all alone. Well he could do _something_ alone but he doesn’t want to. He also doesn’t childishly toss clothing everywhere only to pick it all back up not wanting to cause more work for Zispey. Instead he makes up a large nest on the bed and sulks. Sulks and thinking about how he should have taken Draco up on the elopement. Not even a visit from Percy makes him feel better.

Percy who hums and runs his hands over Ron’s shoulders. Who paces the room and looks out the window. Who studies the door with narrowed eyes. Percy who tells him everything is going to be okay.

“Maybe after the wedding. Like why isn’t mum a proper escort? I don’t-” Ron grunts cutting himself off. Percy laughs, far too thin hand reaching out and stealing a nibble from Ron’s plate.

“Because Draco has mum wrapped around his finger.”

After Percy leaves he dozes. Never really falling asleep. Dinner is small. His dad looking awkward as he eats with Ron. When dinner ends and his dad leaves, Ron crawls back into his nest and settles down for a lonely night.

The soft _tink, tink, tink,_ of something hitting his second story window has him crawling out of his nest. Cautiously, with his wand in his hand, he approaches the window and pulls aside the drapes.

“Draco?”

The blond waves, a brilliant smile on his face as his other hand drops the pebbles he was tossing to the ground. Ron tries to open the window but it just rattles in the frame. Draco’s face twists up and his shoulders sag.

“Ronpunzle, Ronpunzle let down your hair.”

The window clicks and swings open. Carefully Ron leans out of it so that he can look down at the man who is going to be husband. One eyebrow raises as he looks at him. He knows that his hair is long but that is a little ridiculous. Ironically his red hair does kinda dangle. He feels more like Juliet from that play that Ron loves and hates.

“Don’t look at me. It wasn’t my charm,” Draco calls up. His wand is twirling around and quirks a smile.

“What are you doing out here?”

“Rescuing you from your tower,” Draco waves his wand and a rope ladder snakes up to the window.

“Elope with me?”

The ladder is soft under his hands and it’s thrilling climbing down it. Draco swings him around once his feet hit the ground. Like two star-crossed lovers they hold in their laughter, not wanting to get caught, and rub noses. The air nips at their cheeks and Ron’s heart is thudding in his chest. It’s like he can feel each beat thump against his ribs.

“Yes, I’ll elope with you.”

The kiss they share is sweet and tender. As is the look in Draco’s eyes as he leads Ron away from the manor, down the long entranceway to the gate. They’re really doing this! They’re eloping. Something buzzes beneath Ron’s skin, taking his breath away. It’s late and Hermione is going to kill them, but they are eloping… Just to London where she has a flat in the muggle part of town, but still eloping.

“Percy? What are you doing?”

His older brother is leaning against a pale blue car that reminds Ron of the one he drove to school his second year. Percy shuffles his feet, hands deep in his pockets.

“He’s the one who helped me. He’s the one who switched the charms on the window,” Draco says. There is just the tiniest bit of awe in the blond’s voice. Percy helped Draco? _Percy_. His rule-abiding, no fun allowed older brother? There is no way.

“Who do you think taught George? Taught-- Fred?” Percy asks softly? His voice hitches on _the_ name, shoulders shake but he looks up at Ron and Draco. A tiny smile on his face as he takes them in.

“It was, granted, to get them to _leave_ me alone. To just go away so I can _study_. Why can’t you be more serious? type thing, but I did teach them,” the older Weasley admits with a huffed laugh and tears gathering in his eyes.

“I think Fred would have been right beside me. Draco’s mum is lucky George is still at the shop or else he would have beat me to it.”

They don’t hug. The urge is there but Percy… Percy looks one hug away from breaking and Ron wants his brother in one piece thank you very much.

“Well, come along then. You’re going to be our second witness. Krum is staying with Hermione.”

Ron looks at Draco, tilts his head and says:

“Let’s get married.”

* * *

Sneaking back into the manor late the next afternoon is easier than it was sneaking out. No ropes to climb, no charms to break. They just stroll in through the front door. The white gold band on his finger pulses with warmth, charmed to do so whenever Draco thinks of him.

“ _WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!”_ the voice of his mother bounces around him. It’s thunderous as it always is when she’s worried. He looks up at her and grins a cheeky little smile.

“Out.”

A warm body hits his side. Thin arms wrapping around him as he’s dragged into a tight hug. Narcissa. She’s trembling against him.

“We were so _worried_ about you,” she says letting him go so that she can hug Draco fully.

“Room empty! Window open! We were scared that you were kidnapped! Don’t ever do that again!”

He’s pulled into another hug by his mother. He hugs her back, sharing a look with Draco. They don’t regret what they’ve done. Not even if Ron now owes Hermione a large amount favors for waking her up. Ron hugs his mother back even tighter at the thought, kissing the side of her head.

“Sorry, mum.”

She sniffles a bit.

“Have you eaten? Come on, I’ll whip something up and don’t expect me to let you out of my sight young man!”

“Wait. What are you two doing together? You aren’t married yet, there are five more days! I know! I’m counting. You can-”

“We will be in two days time,” Draco cuts in. He steps away from his mother, wrapping around Ron and pulling the redhead close to him. Purposely, the blond moves their hands so that the light catches on the rings.

“What?”

Ron clears his throat awkwardly.

“Hermione. She still has to file the papers. It takes time. But we are technically married.”

“What!?” Narcissa’s voice rises. Sharp and commanding as she looks from Draco to Ron. Her face is turning red.

“We eloped Mother.”

“How-- how did you even get the rings?!”

Percy steps up then. His smile a mix of fake and real as he tries to look apologetic.

“That would be me. I’m also the one who overrode the charm on the window that let them out.”

“Percy!” Molly yells. She’s been mostly quiet watching the two boys stand up together. Ron watches as Percy looks unashamed if a little sad. A hand ruffles his hair and he looks away.

“My rebellion had to happen sometime, yes?”

Narcissa throws her hands up in the air. The noise that escapes her lips is almost a scream.

“You can’t just elope! We spent time planning this!”

She paces in front of them, her face going red.

“Money! The invitations! Molly!”

Molly walks up to her and pats her shoulder.

“Come along, dear. Let’s get you a drink. Something nice and strong, yes?”

“I’m disowning them!”

“Of course you are, dear.”

“Out of the will!”

“We couldn’t hold a reception then.”

“He won’t see a knu- Oh… true… They are back owned.”

Arthur chuckles from his place toward the back of the room. He’s tired looking as he approaches them.

“You’re still in the doghouse. Molly is a tad bit angry with you and will be until the reception. But… but I’m happy for you.”

He claps them both on the shoulder before following his wife.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please feel free to show your appreciation for the author via kudos/comments below. ♥
> 
> This story is part of Ron/Draco Fest 2019, a currently ongoing anonymous fest. The author will be revealed in late March.


End file.
